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Good bye Jax.

One of the forumers has left and gone fishing on the other side.
A note posted by his daughter on FB.

Moe mai ra Dad, moe mai ra, moe mai ra
Gone fishing in heavenly streams today you are reunited with the catch of your life. Our hearts ache but as Grace said “Poppa missed Abuela so much and now they are together and happy again”.
Jack Holmes Murray 29/08/35- 5/02/18

Korrie Broos

Don't go knocking on Death's door, ring the bell and run like hell. He hates it. (anon)
Nymphing, adds depth to your fly fishing.
Nymphing, is fly fishing in another dimension

I had lots of contact with him via email, and Messanger. As you said, it was always good writing.
He had been struggling with the Cancer for a long time. Always upbeat about it, and said the "The doc says it is not so agressive"

I would have loved to have fished with him, I think it would have been such an enjoyable day. Maybe someday.

Korrie Broos

Don't go knocking on Death's door, ring the bell and run like hell. He hates it. (anon)
Nymphing, adds depth to your fly fishing.
Nymphing, is fly fishing in another dimension

It's actually quite sobering when you realise guys are not immortal.
I'm in the States at the moment attending a fly fishing show and a lot of the big names have attended and given lectures etc. and just how old some of these guys are getting.

Lot of them in 80's and early 90 in some cases and there have been a few of them that have recently left this mortal coil.

(when reading on his FB wall and some FB groups, you realise how he had friends all over the world, and how loved and respected he was)

The Last Paradox - Jax Murray

No movement other than the flicker of an eyelid betrayed the Old Predators presence as he scanned the ambush site for movement, his trusty weapon of choice clasped in a sinewy right hand. He had taken up his chosen position on one side of the clearing while the sun descended ever lower on its slow arc to the western horizon and temporary oblivion.
Past experience had taught the old man well. He knew well the sun's reluctance to surrender its position of dominance to the approaching darkness. He was aware that this struggle for dominance would probably allow him enough light by which to carry out his mission. He also knew he would need to act swiftly and silently if he was to succeed.
Observations from two previous sorties with some careful stalking, had determined where and when would be the best time and position from which to strike with the greatest chance of success. His prey's inbred instinct for survival and uncanny ability to sense imminent danger, coupled with excellent vision, made an undetected attack across the open clearing almost impossible in daylight.
The Old Man’s enquiries indicated that others had tried to claim this Quarry for themselves, and in failing, had made the prey even more alert and cautious. So it was that word of this situation filtered out into the ether and came to the Old Man’s attention. It was the notion this prey could not be taken in the normal course of events that had brought the Old Man forward to accept the unspoken challenge.
As the last of the sun's rays were forced below the horizon by the relentless advance of the darkness that is night, an almost imperceptible tremor passed through the Old Mans frame. The prey had revealed its position over on the far side of the clearing.
Slowly, smoothly and silently the Old Man raised his trusty old weapon launcher. The twinge of an old shoulder injury went unheeded as the Old Man cast his weapon with smooth practiced precision.
The prey, lulled into a sense of security perhaps by the imminent cloak of darkness, had no inkling of danger as it edged further out into the clearing to feed.
The Old Man's weapon struck. The prey reeled under the unexpected impact and all balance momentarily lost, thought desperately of sanctuary. Swiftly, gathering all its available strength, the prey lunged in the direction of a nearby log only to be brought up short as an unknown force pulled it toward the far side of the clearing.
Having exhausted all its energy in many frantic but unsuccessful attempts to escape. The prey succumbed and gazed up into the eyes of the Old Man who bending down removed his weapon with a deft twist of a trembling hand.
The prey lay gasping in the shallow water at the Old man’s feet. Death was close, very close. Gently, almost tenderly, the Old Man reached down and with trembling hands eased the prey out into deeper water and waited for it to swim off.
Although exhausted by its recent struggle, instinct drove the prey to flee to the safety of a nearby log from where it watched as the Old Man doffed his hat and strode off into the night. The prey would survive. The Old Man had departed and tranquility reigned once more on the trout stream.
The Old Man made his weary way home that night well satisfied with the outcome of this encounter. Along the way his thoughts turned to other possible encounters yet to come. He was not to know that The Fates had decreed this to be his last conquest. Perhaps Fate will endow the next Predator with compassion for his Prey as well.
For if there is NO Prey. Where then the predator?

Korrie Broos

Don't go knocking on Death's door, ring the bell and run like hell. He hates it. (anon)
Nymphing, adds depth to your fly fishing.
Nymphing, is fly fishing in another dimension